Dissociation
by Bebedora
Summary: [Set after Into Darkness, at the start of the five-year-mission.] Kirk comes face to face with his worst enemy-himself. As he spirals downward into his own personal Hell, he runs the risk of taking the ship with him. Rated for violence, language and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

Dissociation

_"…Space is disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence…"_

"…_James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man. He went on to captain the U.S.S. Enterprise... but that was another life. A life I will deprive you of just like I did your father!…"_

"_...There's greatness in you, but not an ounce of humility…" _

"…_Is there nothing you wouldn't do for your family?..." _

"…_because you are my friend…" _

"_Jim?"_

"Jim!"

"Dammit man, will you acknowledge me?"

Captain James T. Kirk snapped himself from his thoughts and stared blankly at his Chief Medical Officer. The older man scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood in front of the Captain's desk in his ready room, tapping his foot.

"Did you even hear a thing I just said?"

Kirk sighed and looked at his friend with tired eyes. "You want me to come to Sick Bay for a check-up, and _'…don't you dare skip out on me or I'll hunt you down and jab a goddamn hypo where the sun don't shine.'_ That about cover it?"

McCoy's glowered. "Don't get smart with me, Jim. I can tell that you're not sleeping well, and Carol tells me that you haven't been eating much. Now, are you going to tell me why, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"I'm fine, Bones. Really."

"Like hell you're fine," the older man scoffed. "You were late for your last two shifts and…"

"Wait, a minute, how'd you know that?"

McCoy smirked. "I have my sources. I mean it; I want your ass in Sick Bay before the day is out. You need some blood tests to rule out anemia."

"I don't have anemia."

"Well somethin's going on with you! I know you're not feeling well right now just by looking at you!" Kirk started to speak, but was cut off. "…and don't tell me that you feel fine! You're pale, getting thinner by the day and your hands were just shaking a minute ago."

Kirk looked down at his hands and scowled. "Trust me, alright? I promise I'll come to you if I feel like shit."

"Trust you?" McCoy growled. "That'll be the day. I'm worried about you, Jim." He approached the desk and leaned over, resting his hands on the top. "I'm speaking as your best friend right now, not your CMO. You need to be honest with me. I can't help you if you won't open up."

"I don't need any help, Bones. Really. Just drop it."

McCoy threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "I don't know why I bother sometimes! It's like talking to a damn brick wall! You need a complete blood workup, cardio monitoring and a body scan. Don't fight me on this."

"All that's really not necessary."

"You don't get a choice, Jim. I'll tell you what's necessary and what's not. Sick Bay—by day's end—or I pull rank. Something's up with you and we need to figure out what it is. You can choose to cooperate or not, but I_ will_ get to the bottom of this."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Are we finished? Because I have a lot of files to go over before I go back to the bridge."

McCoy pursed his lips. "Yeah, sure."

"You're dismissed, Doctor." The doctor furrowed his brows and Kirk watched as McCoy turned silently and exited the room, hands clenched into fists at his side.

Kirk swiveled his chair around and faced the blackness of space. He sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He begged his brain to stop the headache that was threatening to rear its ugly head. The pain in his head had been consistently present for weeks, dull and always there. Every once and a while, it would spike in intensity and turn into a migraine.

He hoped today was not one of those days.

Of course, he had lied to McCoy every time the doctor asked about how he was feeling. He had successfully avoided most of his medical exams, citing bridge business or lack of time. The doctor had grumbled and threatened, but in the end Jim had always managed to calm him down with a peace offering. Usually bourbon.

"…_Dammit, Jim, I mean it. You need to take better care of yourself. One of these days you're gonna collapse on the bridge." McCoy swirled the amber liquid around in the highball glass, a smirk crossing his face. "You know…your performance in bed could suffer too."_

"_Shut up. My sexual prowess is just fine, thank you." _

_McCoy grunted and drained his glass. "You might be a tiger in the sack now, but if you keep this shit up—this whole running yourself ragged business—well, just don't say I didn't warn you."_

"_Gee, thanks, Bones. Glad to know you're so interested in my love life." He poured the doctor another shot. "You need to get laid…"_

Three weeks had passed since that conversation. Jim had seen his physical stamina start to suffer, his attention span decreasing.

He wasn't eating well.

His virility was waning.

And he definitely wasn't sleeping.

He couldn't…

The dreams were too intense to allow him peaceful rest.

As he sat in his chair, staring out into the void, he tried to make himself forget. All the images that haunted his sleep—Khan and the warp core—they were relentless. Plaguing his everyday life until he was no longer able to go more than a few moments without seeing Singh lurking in the shadows of his quarters, or having the bridge suddenly turning into the claustrophobic access tunnel leading to the core.

Kirk's hands began to quake again, his chest constricting as he was suddenly unable to catch his breath.

"…_On behalf of Christopher Pike—my friend—I accept your surrender…" _

"…_Ignore me and you will get everyone on this ship killed…"_

A sharp pain in his chest jolted Kirk back from his mind, doubling him over in his chair. He recognized the all-too-familiar symptoms. Shaking hands, difficulty breathing, and intense pain over his heart: he was having a panic attack.

Jim extended his arms and pushed the chair back until it touched the wall. Gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white, he stretched his back as he tried to take deep, even breaths. He knew he had to squelch this attack quickly, or he would have no other solution but to call for McCoy.

_In and out…_

_You're not in the core…_

_In and out…_

_Khan's gone…_

_In and out…_

The comm beeped. Jim tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

_Not now…_

_In and out…_

_I'm alive…_

_In and out…_

It signaled again.

_Don't puke, Captain._

_In and out…_

The tightness in his chest began to subside as the attack waned. Jim lifted his head cautiously, cracking an eye open to peer at the viewscreen on his desk. The comm was coming from the bridge. It rang again, this time accompanied by a soft voice.

"_Captain? Is everything alright?"_

Uhura's voice was comforting. Kirk took a deep breath and sat up, connecting the hail with a tap of his finger.

"Just fine, Lieutenant. What do you need?" He inhaled deeply, feeling the air expand his lungs to almost painful fullness. He slowly let the breath out, and along with it the remnants of the panic attack.

"_We've been hailed by a small cargo ship. Their engines have given out and they're requesting assistance."_

"I'll be there in a minute. Have them stand by."

"_Yes, Sir."_

Jim stood and walked to the small bathroom off of his ready room. He took a moment to splash a bit of cold water on his face, slapping his cheeks as the cool liquid came in contact with his skin. He looked into the mirror above the tiny metal sink. Blue eyes stared back at him. He blinked lethargically.

"_You can't even guarantee the safety of your own crew…" _

When his eyes opened once again, it wasn't his own face staring back at him, but that of Khan.

Jim jumped back; squeezing his eyes together so hard it hurt his face. He backed up against the wall, chest heaving, pressing his body against the cool metal. He willed the image to go away.

_Not real._

_He's never real._

_You're Jim Kirk._

…_not Khan…_

Kirk cautiously cracked his right eye open, and immediately spied himself in the mirror, cowering against the far wall. He scrutinized the image intensely, committing his own likeness to memory so he could be certain that Khan's visage would not replace his own again.

He held a hand over his chest in an attempt to still his stuttering breaths, all the while eyeing the reflection in the mirror. The comm beeped again.

"_Sir, their Captain is waiting."_

Jim straightened his tunic and exited the restroom. He stopped briefly at his desk to turn off his viewer and strode onto the bridge of the _Enterprise._

"Sir, the ship's Captain's name is Borgir. He says they suffered a catastrophic engine explosion yesterday afternoon and have been stranded. Their long-range communications have been damaged, leaving them with only the capability to send out short-range distress beacons."

Kirk sat in his seat. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

_Keep it together._

As Jim motioned for Uhura to connect the hail, the headache that had been looming in the recesses of his brain all day once again began to surface. He winced slightly and squinted in the bright lights of the bridge. A sharp pain behind his left eye flashed into existence for a moment, then fizzled.

_Shit._

_Take a deep breath and get through this._

"Captain Borgir, I'm James Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise_. I've been told you're having some engine difficulties. I'd like to offer our assistance to get you up and running again."

The man on the screen smiled thankfully. _"We would be forever in your debt for any services you could offer. We need a skilled technician or two to help rebuild our damaged engine. It's small, so it shouldn't be too difficult of a task. Our engineer passed on a few months back and we have not had the opportunity to take on another. So, we were at a disadvantage when this mishap occurred."_

"I'm sorry to hear about your officer. Give us an hour or so to get a team together, and send a list of all the components and supplies you think you'll need for the repairs—we'll see what we can scrounge up."

"_Thank you, Captain Kirk. Word of your generosity and kindness has reached all corners of the galaxy. It is an honor to be helped by you and your crew."_

The pain came back just as Kirk was finishing the comm. He desperately tried to save face as a wave of nausea swept over him. The stinging behind his eye was growing ever more intense. Jim forced a smile.

"Don't mention it, Captain. We'll be contacting you as soon as we're ready to come aboard. Is there anything you need in the meantime?" Kirk gripped the armrests of his chair tightly. The nauseous feeling was becoming more intense. He willed himself not to throw up.

"_I don't believe so. We will be in touch, Captain."_

As the image on the screen blinked away and was replaced by the normal forward view, Kirk began to see stars—and not just the ones on the viewer. Bright lights danced in front of his eyes, obscuring crew members and equipment. The crew finally began to take notice, as he slumped back into his chair and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets in an attempt to relieve the anguish.

"Sir? Are you feeling ill?"

Never opening his eyes, Kirk sighed. "I…Mister Spock, you have the conn." He stood and turned towards the turbolift.

Uhura's concerned eyes followed him as he walked. "Captain, is there anything I can do?"

"No, Lieutenant. Just a bad headache. I'm going to try and sleep it off."

Spock rose to take the Captain's chair. "Do you require me to alert Doctor McCoy?"

"No. And don't tell him I'm leaving early. He'd just worry."

Spock raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Very well, Captain. Though I must remind you that Vulcans cannot lie. If he were to enquire, I will be obligated to tell him of your whereabouts and why you left your shift before it was scheduled to end."

"Sure, Spock." The lift door whooshed open and he stepped inside. "Comm me if you need me."

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

_The_ _warp core was hot and loud. Every surface he touched seared his fingertips. He struggled to climb the massive frame to the misaligned housing. His body screamed at him with each painful movement, threatening to give out on him at any moment._

_But he wouldn't give up._

_He needed to save the crew._

_As he climbed the final few feet, a shadow loomed overhead, blocking out the bright lights of the central core. Kirk looked up to see Khan, towering over him, lifting his boot to smash down on his already weakening fingers._

"_Well, well, Captain. Trying to save what I've worked so hard to destroy?"_

_Jim fought to pull his weight up onto the platform. Instead of stomping his hands and sending him to certain death below, Khan watched silently, lowering his foot. He didn't offer assistance, rather laughed sinisterly as Jim crawled onto the grating and collapsed, the radiation already eating away at his body._

_Kirk got on his knees and tried to brace himself on a part of the core housing to help him stand. He wobbled he stood, Khan staring him down with cold eyes. _

"_Look at you. You're weak, no good, and can't even stand on your own two feet without swaying."_

_Jim tried to stand up straight, but his body was growing weaker by the moment. He steadied himself and glared at Khan with steely determination._

"_Get off my ship."_

_Khan laughed and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him high into the air, his feet dangling just inches from the damaged core. "Your ship? You're mistaken, Captain. This ceased to be your ship the moment Christopher Pike took her away from you." Khan squeezed Kirk's throat._

_Jim wriggled in his mighty grip, trying to free himself from the growing pressure of Khan's fingers digging into his neck. He tried to speak, but Khan just pressed his fingertips harder into his throat. _

"_You will never be a hero, Captain Kirk. No one will remember you. You're not worth it."_

_Khan abruptly dropped him, Jim crashing to the floor clutching his swollen neck. He gasped for air, a hoarse barking cough escaping his mouth as his lungs greedily absorbed the oxygen they had been cruelly deprived of. He was on all fours, his equilibrium slow to come back as he tried to get his brain to come out of its haze. Jim groped around on the floor, trying to find something to hold onto as he attempted to stand again._

_He scanned the immediate area, looking past Khan's boots to find…_

'_A cane?'_

_He squinted at the silver tip resting on the floor. It swayed back and forth slightly as the wielder shifted their weight. Kirk looked back to the legs of whoever it was, expecting to find Khan's black pants and boots. Instead, Jim was greeted with gray dress slacks and impeccably shined boots, very reminiscent of a Starfleet uniform._

_He turned his weak neck upwards, the lights behind the figure obscuring their face. Kirk could tell by the body shape that it was no longer Khan. The person was shorter and less built, leaning heavily to the left on the walking stick._

"_Admiral?"_

_A hand came out of the shadows, and Kirk shakily reached out to grasp it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He was face to face with Christopher Pike. The older man offered a warm smile, but said nothing._

_They both stood there silently for a moment, Kirk relieved that he was no longer in the presence of Khan. He wanted Pike to say something—anything. Jim just wanted to hear his voice one more time. _

"_Admiral, please say something."_

_Pike just stared at him, blue eyes glistening with moisture. He had begun to cry. It seemed as though he was trying to speak, his mouth was opening and attempting to form words, but no sound emerged from his lips. It was obvious that the older man was distressed by inability to talk._

_Kirk looked at him with concern. He gently took the Admiral by the shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. He didn't know what to say._

_Pike continued to try and speak, becoming more and more frustrated with every passing second. He huffed in annoyance and scowled. Jim just squeezed his shoulders harder; he didn't know what else to do. _

_Suddenly, Pike threw his head backwards and screamed in anguish. Blood began to stream from his nose and mouth, splattering on Kirk's uniform as he coughed. He grabbed his head between his hands, the cane clattering to the ground. Kirk tried to steady the older man, but Pike shoved him away and recoiled as a blue light enveloped him._

"_Do you see, Kirk?" It was Khan's voice, echoing like a phantom within the chamber. "You can't save your ship, yourself or your mentor. No matter how hard you try, or how much of my blood pumps through your veins…you will never be the hero you so desperately want to be."_

_Kirk looked on in horror as Pike's body began to swell, his skin peeling off in huge strips. As the older man's organs liquefied, a grotesque concoction of blood and tissues began erupting from his mouth. An unseen force lifted Pike off the ground and suspended him several feet above the terrified Captain._

_Khan's voice continued to reverberate in Jim's ears. "He is suffering because of you. You can choose to end his life now and put him out of his misery…or you can watch him die. Again."_

_Kirk screwed his eyes shut, unable to look at Pike's bloated body hanging in the air. Even with eyes closed, he could still hear the awful sound of flesh and bodily fluids splashing to the floor over the Admiral's gurgling screams. The smell of decaying flesh was beginning to overtake Kirk's senses._

_A phaser appeared in Jim's hand, heavy and solid. His finger instinctively curled around the trigger. Pike continued to moan as he looked down at the weapon._

'_All I have to do is pull the trigger. I can end his suffering.'_

_Pike began to thrash in the grips of whatever was holding him in the air. Blood cascaded from a giant hole that had appeared in his chest. Kirk could see the Admiral's heart beating behind twisted and broken ribs. Pike looked at him with pleading eyes, and suddenly Kirk could hear his voice in his own head._

"_James…help me."_

_He tightened his grip around the handle of the phaser, fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He knew what he had to do, but didn't want to face reality. _

"_Shoot him, Captain."_

_To save Pike, he would have to murder him._

'_No. I…can't"_

_Kirk collapsed to the floor, the phaser skittering away as it was cast aside. In an instant, all the pain he had felt while dying in the access corridor of the core came flooding back to him. He could feel his blood boiling in his veins and his throat was burning. Fluid filled his lungs, and his heart began to beat erratically. _

"_You will both suffer because you are a coward, Captain."_

_Superhuman hands closed in around Kirk's face and began to squeeze. Kirk strained to lift his head and look his attacker in the eye. Khan stared down at him, sinister smirk on his face. Jim could see Pike's convulsing body hovering behind him, bones becoming visible as he was stripped of his skin._

"_I'm…not a…coward…" Jim thrashed under Khan's mighty hands, unable to wrench himself from the madman's colossal grip. Kirk felt a warm liquid begin to dribble from his ears as the pressure increased, his eyesight clouding as his brain fought for what little oxygen was left in his bloodstream._

"_You will never be as great as your father, Kirk. You're worthless…" _

_Khan gritted his bared teeth and pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of Kirk's cheeks as he constricted his face. _

_Jim's vision went black to the sound of his own guttural screams…_

Kirk flailed in the blankets of his bed, sitting bolt upright with a throaty scream. He only had seconds to make it to the bathroom before he vomited. He held his head over the bowl of the commode, the cool porcelain chilling his fingers as he gripped the sides tightly. Another wave of queasiness washed over him and he emptied the remaining contents of his stomach in a massive heave.

After a long moment, when he was confident that he wasn't going to throw up again, he sat back and rested his weary body against the other wall. He felt feverish; his entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looked longingly at the shower stall, deciding that cold water could possibly alleviate the searing heat.

He stripped out of his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped under the freezing water. The icy liquid shocked him, goose bumps erupting on his sensitive flesh. He braced himself against the tiles, resting his forehead in the corner. He took a several deep cleansing breaths, the awful feeling left by the dream slowly beginning to slip away, spiraling down the drain with the used water.

_Not again…_

_This is getting out of control…_

_I can't even sleep normally anymore…_

_I'm losing my mind…_

Jim stayed in the shower until the klaxon signaling excessive water usage blared, turning the spray off automatically seconds later. He stood there, naked and shivering for a long moment before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He flipped on the small light above the mirror, relieved when his own face stared back at him.

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

_A/N: Shout out to my excellent beta—and great friend—QuietRaine. Not only did you come up with the title, but you've always been an inspiration of great ideas and not scared to wield your mighty red pen. Thank you for everything you've done for me, and will continue to do. I could never do this without you._

_And Saber Wing, you're a great sounding board for some pretty strange ideas, and I love that you let me be crazy…and that you share my love of angst. You've already given me great input for this story, and I can't wait to hear what you think!_

_I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks of this new one! Get ready for an angsty ride! Thank you in advance to everyone who reads. _

_-Bebedora._


	2. Chapter 2

Dissociation: Chapter Two

"You're damn lucky I had an emergency last night and couldn't hunt you down!" McCoy was furious, and the hypo he had in his hand made Jim extra nervous.

"I had a headache and went back to my quarters to try and sleep it off. I slept through the afternoon and night and woke up this morning. It helped, though." Kirk eyed him. He couldn't tell if the doctor was buying his story. "I guess I was exhausted."

McCoy raised an eyebrow, waving a small scanner over Jim's temple. "What kind of headache? You having migraines again? And don't lie to me."

"Yes." Kirk's voice was soft.

_Oh no._

_He's going to yell._

McCoy's face turned bright red. "Dammit, you need to tell me about this shit!" His fingers gripped tightly around the medical device in his hand. "With Khan's blood runnin' through your system, everything is new for us! I need to know about any changes in your health, no matter how insignificant they may seem to you."

"It was just a headache, Bones. I didn't think it was that important."

"Didn't think it was that important? This is uncharted territory we're in! How soon you forget that I almost lost my medical license for doin' what I did! And one of the only reasons I was allowed to keep my commission is that I promised to keep detailed records of everything that happens to you as a result of the transfusion." He pushed Jim back on the biobed and began to palpate his abdomen. "You need to help me out here, kid. This affects all of us, not just you."

Kirk lay there silently as McCoy examined him, avoiding eye contact.

"This hurt?" Jim shook his head and McCoy continued pressing on the soft tissue of his stomach, centering on his spleen. "I don't feel any more swelling on your spleen, looks like that finally resolved itself. You can sit up."

"Can I put my shirt back on now? You keep this place freezing like a meat locker." He rubbed his hands over his bare biceps.

"No, I need to run a cardio scan. Sit still for a minute." The doctor held a small device over Kirk's heart and activated it. Instantly, the biobed's monitors lit up with a readout of Jim's cardiac activity. McCoy scowled. "Your heart's still beating harder than it needs to. Damn augment blood. I thought we had this under control with meds."

Kirk sheepishly looked away from McCoy. He knew the wrath was coming. McCoy's clenched hands and red ears were a dead giveaway.

"You're not taking the meds, are you?"

"You're pushing new drugs on me left and right, Bones! They make me feel awful."

McCoy gritted his teeth, his hands shaking with anger. "The alternative is death!"

"You don't know that."

The doctor threw the scanner on the cart next to the biobed with such force it careened off and clattered on the floor. "You're right, I don't know. But I don't wanna find out that I'm wrong too late down the road." McCoy sat down on a swiveling stool next to the bed. "Listen to me, Jim. You need to come clean with me…about everything. Khan's blood is unpredictable, and if you aren't one-hundred-percent honest, you could be a walking time bomb."

"I'll take the meds, alright?"

McCoy sighed and handed Kirk his shirt. "It's not just about the medication. You're distant and unapproachable. I feel like I'm losing you all over again."

Jim slipped the tunic over his head. "I know. I'm sorry; I've just been stressed lately."

"Stressed, huh?" The doctor eyed him suspiciously. "Stress usually leads to panic attacks. You havin' any?" He raised an eyebrow.

Kirk shook his head, his expression unyielding. "No, it's been nice."

_Can't tell him..._

…_about any of the dozen I've had in the past couple months._

_He'll try and give me more drugs._

_And they won't work, they never do._

"Nice? I'm not fallin' for that. I know you had one a few weeks back. I wasn't going to say anything because I wrongly assumed that you'd come to me."

Kirk scowled. "Who tattled? It was Spock, wasn't it?"

_Which one does he know about?_

_The transporter?_

_The shuttle?_

_He can't know about the ones in my quarters…can he?_

"Actually, it was Sulu. An' don't go gettin' pissy with him. He was worried, Jim." McCoy scooted closer on the stool. "What brought it on?"

_Which one did Sulu see?_

_Gotta think on the fly._

_Answer him, Jim. _

Jim scratched his head absentmindedly. "It was stupid. The shuttle just felt claustrophobic for a second. I should have been able to control it."

"It only _takes_ a second, Jim. And you can't control them." McCoy reached for his PADD. "I'm going to give you a prescription for an oral anti-anxiety medication. God knows you won't let me administer it via hypo. This way, you can pop a pill if you need to and at least it'll take the edge off."

Kirk's eyes were pleading. "No more drugs, Bones. I can handle this, really."

"Too late, the script is written. I'll bring 'em by later." He set the PADD down on the supply cart. "Now, since I've actually gotten you to get a little chatty, you want to let me in on what else is bothering you? You're brain scan showed some concerning tendencies. The nightmares are back, aren't they? You had one along with your migraine, didn't you?"

Kirk exhaled deeply and he let his eyes wander to the floor. He licked his dry lips. "I was in the core…with Khan. It's always the same dream, but this last time…"

"What changed?"

"Pike appeared. He couldn't talk and he was frustrated because of it. Then all of a sudden…" Jim shuddered.

_Shit, I really don't want to talk about this._

_It was horrible…_

"Go on, kid. It'll do you good to get it out."

Kirk wrung his hands together. "…he started screaming. He swelled up like a balloon and something lifted him into the air. That's when…" Jim could feel a wave of heat flash over his face. He felt like he was going to be sick. "…his skin started to rot and fall off."

"Jesus."

"Tell me about it." Kirk took a cleansing breath. "He begged me to help him. And Khan reappeared and told me to put him out of his misery. That's when the phaser materialized in my hand."

McCoy frowned, pausing before he asked the inevitable question. "Did you do it?"

"No." Kirk's voice was hushed. "I couldn't. So Khan called me a coward and moved in to kill me like he did Marcus. That's when I woke up." He let out a shuddering breath.

'_It'll do you good,' he says._

_I feel like I'm going to puke._

_Pike…_

"Helluva dream, huh?" Jim nodded. "Are you seeing any strange visions or optical phenomena coinciding with the nightmares?"

"They're bad dreams, Bones. The whole thing is a strange vision."

"When you're awake, I mean." The doctor tapped his thumbs together in his lap. "Sometimes terrible nightmares can manifest themselves in other states of mind. Namely as visions during the day. And that's a serious sign we need to look out for. It can be an indication that something more than just nasty dreams is going on."

_You think I'm going to tell you that I see Khan almost every time I look in the mirror?_

_That'll get me an insanity diagnosis faster than anything._

…_and then they'll take the Enterprise from me again._

"I only see him in my dreams, honest."

The doctor sat quietly for a moment before he finally spoke. "Alright, but promise me you'll tell me if the dreams get worse or you start experiencing what we talked about. It's important."

"Okay."

"I'm glad you shared that with me, Jim. I know that must have been tough. But didn't it feel better to know that you don't have to suffer alone? Don't hide from me—from your friends. We're here to help."

"It doesn't matter, Bones. No matter what I do, I'll still have nightmares." He shook his head. "And don't say you'll give me any more meds."

"Jim, let me help you." McCoy gently placed his hand on Kirk's knee. "We have a wonderful ship's counselor. Sit with her—_talk to her._ You can't keep this shit to yourself; it'll eat you up like termites on a rotten peach tree stump."

"Why can't I just talk to you?"

"I've been barkin' up that tree for a year. Every time I try and get you to open up, you shut me out. I'm a little shocked that you just told me about the dream." He leaned in close and looked Kirk in the eyes. "Look, she's neutral. Talk to her…for me?"

_If I agree will you leave me alone?_

_This blows._

Kirk finally relented with a huff. "Fine."

"Thank you. I may be your CMO, but I'm also your best friend. I don't like to see you hurting. And I sure as hell don't want to see this problem take you down, especially not when we can do something about it." He stood and grabbed Kirk's shoulder. "No one said this recovery was going to be easy, kid. It'll be a work in progress for a long time. It's not every day a man comes back from the dead, let alone agrees to go out into the black for five years so close after."

"I know. And don't think that I don't appreciate everything you've done. I promise I'll get this under control."

"Good. 'Cause I'm sick of huntin' your ass down for simple exams."

Kirk chuckled. "But that's half the fun, Bones. Can I go now?"

"In a minute, I need to take a few vials of blood." He retrieved a small extractor.

Kirk grimaced as he rolled up his shirt sleeve. "I hate that thing. It hurts."

"Don't be such a baby. Getting kicked in the back by a pissed off donkey, now _that_ hurts." He took gentle hold of Jim's arm. The comm beeped just as he was about to draw the blood, causing Kirk to pull his arm back.

"_Sir, Captain Borgir would like to thank you before they get on their way."_

Kirk pushed his sleeve down. "I'm on my way, Lieutenant. Sorry, Bones! Guess you'll just have to wait to torture me!" He jumped down off of the biobed.

"It'll just make it that much more enjoyable. Be back here before the day is out."

Kirk walked out of Sick Bay.

Of course, he didn't return.

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

"You know, _Captain, _if you keep making chocolate cakes like this, I may never leave." Carol Marcus' eyes twinkled in the candlelight. She dipped the tip of her finger into the remaining ganache on her plate and licked it off with seduction in her eyes.

"That's fine with me. You can do the dishes." Kirk smiled mischievously.

Carol threw a cherry she had picked off her slice at him. Kirk immediately picked it up and popped it in his mouth, the stem reemerging several seconds later tied in a knot. Carol smirked and leaned in over the table, her breath causing the candle flames to dance on the air currents. Her voice was husky with lust.

"That's a pretty impressive trick, Jim. What else can that tongue do?"

Kirk loved this sexy side of her. They had been able to keep their relationship strictly professional when on duty, nothing more than Captain and Science Officer. But when their respective shifts were over and they could be alone together, all bets were off. And Jim couldn't get enough.

_Who says a Captain has to behave himself when off duty?_

_Not when I have such a beautiful woman willing to do anything…_

…_and I mean anything._

Kirk stood, grabbing one of her petite hands in his own. She blew out the candles as she rose and circled the table, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine as she did so. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bottle gently thumping against his back, as he leaned in and kissed her.

"How would you like to find out?" He purred into her neck, sucking at a spot just behind her ear. Any hickey left over would be easy to cover with her hair. He pulled her closer, pressing himself into her thigh.

Carol bit his ear. "My, my. You're frisky tonight. And apparently very ready for me." She brushed her hand over the front of his pants, causing him to inhale sharply as he buried his face in her shoulder. He reached around her back with his free hand and grabbed both wine glasses, thankfully empty so they wouldn't spill, and began to pull them both backwards towards the bedroom.

Taking just a moment to set the glasses and bottle down on the nightstand, the pair could barely control their most primal of instincts. Hands roamed and lips mashed together as they fell onto the mattress. They had no need for artificial light, as the brightness from a close-by moon illuminated the cabin with a low glow. Bright enough to see each other, yet dim enough to leave an air mystery.

One of Jim's hands tickled up Carol's thigh and under her dress, ghosting across the junction between her thighs. He growled seductively as he found she was without panties. "If I wouldn't have known better, I would think you were expecting something tonight, _Lieutenant._" He brushed his fingertips over her, and a shudder coursed through her entire body.

Carol curled her fingers around the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to expose his toned abdomen. "Shirt off…_now_."

Kirk pouted. "But then I'll have to move my hand. And I don't think you want that to happen just yet." He rubbed his thumb over her and she gasped with pleasure.

"Be rewarded later for a present sacrifice." She licked her lips and kissed him forcefully. "Lose the shirt."

Jim obliged and sat up, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. Carol followed suit, allowing him to reach around and unzip her dress, removing it and leaving her naked in the low light of the cabin. She smiled and briefly covered her chest, feigning embarrassment.

"You're beautiful, Carol." He ran his hands down her arms, settling on her hips. They closed the gap between one another and kissed passionately for a long moment.

Carol finally broke for air and pushed Jim on his back. Straddling him, she reached for his belt buckle and began to undo the clasp. Jim laced his fingers behind his head and relaxed into the pillow, watching her every move.

_I love the way she looks in the moonlight._

_Just for me._

_This is going to be a good night._

_I swear to God if anyone comms me, I'll flip my lid._

Kirk felt her hands on his hips, pushing his trousers down slowly. He allowed her to remove them along with his boxers. In an instant, they were both naked, forcing Carol to lean over and lay on his chest for body heat. This allowed him to hold her close, strong arms wrapping around her tiny body, pressing himself against her most intimate of areas.

Before they knew it, they had joined together, Jim relishing in Carol's heat as she moved with him. He loved the way her weight felt on top of him as he craned his neck downwards to bury his face in her breasts, taking a moment to choose a nipple to cover with his mouth.

They danced together in the darkness, soft moans permeating through the otherwise silent cabin. Carol sat back, bracing herself with her hands on his chest. She threw her head back in the throes of passion, Jim watching as ecstasy took her expression. He watched her as she bit her lower lip and moaned, her movements and sounds stoking his own fire.

Kirk brought his hands up to knead her breasts, her skin erupting in tiny goose bumps at his touch. She opened her eyes and looked at him, pupils blown with lust. "You have magic hands, _Captain._" Jim felt Carol's body begin to tense, the telltale sign of approaching climax. He timed his movements along with hers, striving for mutual release.

"Together, Carol. Please." Jim's voice was breathy and passionate. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

She smiled in the moonlight, leaning down to kiss him, tongue battling with his own for dominance. She matched his speed, shudders ripping through both lovers moments later as Jim's wish was granted. Carol collapsed down on his chest, breathing heavily in the aftermath of their lovemaking session.

Kirk held her tightly, inhaling the soft scent of her floral perfume. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and sighed contentedly. He could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, pressed against his own.

"Jim, that was incredible." Her voice was muffled by the pillow next to Kirk's head. She turned her face and gently kissed his ear, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of his cheek.

He said nothing, instead hugged her closer, wicking away the last of the remaining body heat radiating off of her. He could feel her begin to shiver, so he begrudgingly broke the connection between them, allowing her to roll onto her side. He sat up enough to grab the covers, and suddenly missing her warmth, he quickly laid back down, pulling the blankets up over them both. Carol curled up next to him, Jim's strong arm wrapping around her as she exhaled deeply.

They lay there for a long moment in silence, listening to each other's breathing steady as they recovered from their intense experience. Jim tangled his fingers in her blonde hair, while his other hand rested on his own abdomen, holding hers tightly.

_I never want this_ _feeling to end._

_She makes me feel so happy._

_Nothing can get to me when she's in my arms._

Carol yawned sleepily. "You've worn me out, Jim."

"Usually it's the man who falls asleep right after." He kissed the top of her forehead with a chuckle. "Stay the night?"

"Of course." She sighed deeply and turned her head at an awkward angle to kiss him once more before sleep took them both.

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

_[Kill her.]_

_[Wrap your hands around her throat and squeeze.]_

Jim's eyes shot open and he found himself hovering over his sleeping lover, his shaking hands millimeters from Carol's throat. Rage boiled inside of him as he snarled in the darkness. He desperately wanted to feel the soft flesh of her neck under his fingers, her windpipe being crushed with incredible force. He allowed his hands to move closer, licking his lips in anticipation as he went in for the kill. He began to feel aroused at the prospect of watching her gasp for air, clawing at his hands as he constricted harder. He hoped her eyes would bulge.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, turning her head to the side, leaving her neck more exposed than ever. He could see her heartbeat thumping through the vein in her neck. Kirk thought about how thrilling it would be to slice it open, watching her lifeblood stain his light blue sheets.

He leaned close enough to inhale deeply near her face. She still smelled of perfume and sex. It excited him, and he couldn't wait to snap her neck in two.

_What the fuck?_

_Oh my God!_

_Stop!_

He pushed himself away quickly, his breaths coming in short terrified gasps. He stared at his hands in disbelief. If he looked hard enough, he could imagine Carol's blood staining them.

_Was I dreaming?_

_The voice…it was…_

…_mine._

His own voice had been sinister and threatening, and he felt as if he had been moments away from acting on the phantom command. Never in his life had he heard himself be so menacing.

Jim could feel the rage surfacing once again and knew he needed to get away.

Before he hurt her.

Thankfully, Carol lay sleeping, blissfully unaware of the danger that had threatened her life mere moments before. Jim carefully crawled out of bed, unsure of what to do. He didn't trust himself to stay in the cabin with her, and that felt awful.

_I could have killed her._

_What's happening to me?_

He quietly slipped on some clothes and left a note for Carol—citing some bridge business and not to worry—and headed for the ship's gym. Oftentimes, after he had lived through a panic attack or felt emotionally out of control, working out helped him to recover. He didn't want to admit it to anyone—and certainly not to McCoy—but ever since he had recovered from the transfusion, he would have episodes of manic energy. Sometimes it would be benign, manifesting itself in bursts of adrenaline lasting for days. He wouldn't sleep during those times, and instead would immerse himself in books, files or any other activity that he desired. He didn't mind those highly energetic moments, and enjoyed being able to get things done.

But there were also times where malicious, rageful feelings would seep into his brain. They didn't happen very often, but when they did, it frightened him. He would be fine one moment, but in an instant be compelled to strike out. Sometimes it would be something minor, like the need to punch someone in the face for no reason, or feelings of intense anger for a simple mistake or mishap. Then there would be the moments where he wanted nothing more than to slit Spock's throat, or put a phaser to Chekov's head and pull the trigger.

Just for the hell of it.

To see Spock clutch at his neck, green blood pouring out from underneath his fingertips while he gasped. Or watching as the Ensign's brain was seared from the inside by the phaser shot, nothing more than a puff of smoke emanating from the other side of his skull.

Those urges terrified him.

But not once had they been accompanied by a voice. Never had it been himself telling him to harm. That's what sacred him the most. The thought of losing himself like that made him want to sit in an airlock and hit the release. He could never imagine hurting a member of his crew like that.

He never wanted to be like Khan.

Oftentimes he would think about the augment blood that had revived him, and the remnants that still coursed through his veins. Kirk knew that McCoy had done what he thought would give him the best fighting chance at the time, and he not once blamed the good doctor for any of his heath woes following the procedure. After all, if it wouldn't have been for his best friend, he'd be dead and buried.

But, on nights where he couldn't sleep because he was frenzied, or when he felt the urge to bash Uhura's skull in with a club…he couldn't help but think if he would have been better off dead. Then he wouldn't be tempted to hurt the people he loved.

He knew damn well that if he ever went to McCoy with any of this, he'd try to medicate him. But worse yet—he'd be required to inform the brass at Starfleet. And Jim knew he'd lose his ship if they realized that their golden boy was having homicidal tendencies.

So, he kept it bottled up, and prayed that the feelings would subside little by little, and he could get on with his life.

Obviously, that wasn't happening.

He poked his head out of his cabin door, thankful that the halls were deserted in the early hour. He still felt bubbling twinges of the manic waves deep within him, and he didn't know if he could restrain himself if he were to run into anyone. Usually he had an escape route if he felt the tendencies—he would abruptly leave the bridge citing business he had to take care of, or be thankful that he was alone in his quarters.

He made it to the gym without confrontation from anyone and immediately went to the weights, grabbing two fifty-pounders and curling them in unison without even batting an eyelash. Every pump of his muscles brought him closer to getting rid of the fury that simmered in his veins—wrath that he could never let out in the presence of others.

As the fury melted away, dripping from his face as he strained, he told himself he was in control.

And when he left two hours later, he still believed it.


	3. Chapter 3

Dissociation: Chapter Three

**One Week Later**

Kirk pushed himself harder than ever before.

Every lift of the weights over his body gave him release. Release from the demons that tormented him more and more each day. His muscles burned, begging him to stop. The amount of weight he was pressing into the air was incredible; at least two times what a man of his size should be able to lift safely.

_No rest for the wicked, Jim._

_Only good thing about Khan's blood is this strength…_

The Captain had found himself in the gym several times this week, way more than usual. Every time it was after something had happened. And each time he had felt the surge.

Uncontrollable rage.

First it had been a strategical error. He and a small away team had beamed down to an uninhabited moon to collect flora samples for possible medical research. McCoy had been adamant that he didn't need help, but Kirk insisted. They all split up, Kirk taking a young ensign under his wing to collect their share of the list.

Several minutes and a rock slide later, the Ensign had her leg crushed by falling boulders and nearly didn't make it back to the _Enterprise_ with a pulse. Jim knew it had been an accident, that he had nothing to do with where she stepped, but he still felt responsible. And the fury with himself that followed—in private—threatened to undermine everything he had tried to work on since his last episode.

Back in his cabin, Kirk had felt the wrath with himself boil over, and he had thrown an antique vase—a gift from Uhura—against the wall. It was either the vase, or his hand through the glass shelves in the corner, and he was pretty sure McCoy would wring his neck if he showed up in Sick Bay bleeding like a stuck pig.

He didn't even bother to pick up the shards, instead choosing to go to his makeshift sanctuary. He had made it to the gym without running into anyone and had pushed himself until the wee hours of the morning, all the rage dripping out of his pores until he felt dehydrated.

The next morning, he actually felt refreshed and went on with this day.

Within hours, he had snapped at Carol. A simple mistake in calculating torpedo payload weight. Easily corrected—and she had. But he still had said awful things to her.

The surge had returned.

_I called her a stupid bitch._

_Grabbed her by the arm so tight it left marks._

_She hurried away, trying to mask her tears._

_She was afraid._

That night, after their shifts had ended, Jim had made a peace offering of replicated flowers and loving apologies. He begged her to forgive him, citing stress as the catalyst for his deplorable behavior. On his knees in her cabin, Kirk had laid his head in her lap and pleaded with her to give him a chance to make up for what he had done.

Carol had sat quietly; her fingers curled in his short hair, letting him pour his apologies onto her skirt, tears wetting the fabric. And in the end, she had forgiven him as he vowed to never hurt her again. He stayed that night, making good on his promise to love her always.

In the morning—like all the times before—he had woken up feeling refreshed. Telling himself that today would be different and he wouldn't let the rage swell.

The days plodded on, Jim never able to get more than a few moments of peace, usually in the arms of his lover. And even then, the pleasure was fleeting and didn't offer the release that he craved. Migraines, boiling rage, dreams so bad he felt as if his chest were going to explode as he frightened himself awake—he was coming apart at the seams. He didn't dare tell McCoy, even though the doctor had eyed him every time they were around each other.

By the end of the week, he was sleeping so little he had actually dozed off on the bridge, threatened to demote a perfectly good young lieutenant for practically nothing and had almost threw McCoy over his shoulder when the doctor came up behind him.

The final straw had come this morning, when he had awoken with such unmitigated fear that it made him jolt out of bed and cower in the corner like a threatened animal while he shook. As his eyes had flitted around the room as he attempted to catch his breath, he had to convince himself that he wasn't in the core, and that Khan was locked away.

The nightmare had been awful. Only fragments remained in his terrified brain.

_Khan._

_The core._

_McCoy dead at his feet, his boots slipping in the crimson blood pouring out of his CMO's gaping chest wound._

_His own fingers slick with Leo's blood from where he had pulled the man's heart out with his bare hands._

Crouched in the corner of his cabin, Kirk could feel it. It was threatening to overtake him, his fingers curled so tightly into his palms that his nails were digging tiny crescents into the flesh. His vision tunneled, the edges of his reality beginning to turn black.

The surge was coming.

What had started as fear was now manifesting as a rage so deep it threatened to send Jim into an irrational rampage. He needed to squash it before it completely overtook him.

He glanced at the chronometer as he pulled a tank top on. Oh-three-fifty-eight. No one would be in the gym at this hour. He slipped on a pair of track pants and shoes and hurried out the door, feeling the heat from his oncoming mood swing begin to wash over him.

_Just make it to the workout room._

_You can lift the pain away._

_Push Khan out of your mind._

The gym on the _Enterprise _felt hotter than usual. Within seconds, Jim had ditched his shirt and sweat began dripping down his back. He couldn't tell if it was actually warmer in the room, or if it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Whatever it was, he knew there was only one remedy for the way he was feeling.

He piled over two hundred pounds of weights on the barbells and lay down beneath the frame. He began lifting the enormous weight over his head, his muscles begging him to cease. But there was no way he would listen.

Not until the rage stopped.

He felt himself float away, no longer aware that his arms were beginning to shake under the tremendous mass he held over his head. Over and over again he pushed, droplets of sweat dripping down from his forehead back into his hair, and coating his body in a thin sheen.

He lifted for a good hour, never once stopping to rest. No other man could have endured the brutal punishment Jim was unleashing on his body, but with Khan's blood running through him, the Captain had no trouble continuing.

He would have gone on for hours, if something hadn't moved out of the corner of his eye. A shadow, fleeting and sinister. He stopped lifting for a moment, holding the bar high above his head. He turned his head to find the source of the phantom. He laid there silent and unmoving for a second, watching the corner intently.

_I thought I was alone._

_There's no one else here._

_He's…not here…_

Kirk screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on not dropping the weights on his neck. He pushed the massive bar into the air, his body screaming at him to stop. He decided to give himself several seconds before opening his eyes again, to make sure he was truly alone.

When he finally cracked his lids, he was no longer in the gym.

He was on the _Vengeance. _Watching as his hands wrapped around Admiral Marcus' face and squeezed.

"No! Stop it!"

Kirk gasped and released his grip on the weights, the barbell thankfully falling behind him and not across his throat. Jim scrambled off of the weight bench and knelt beside it, his palms pressed tight over his eyes.

_I'm on the Enterprise._

_Marcus is dead._

_Khan killed him, not me._

_I'm…not Khan!_

_[But he's in you.]_

_Jesus, what's happening?_

Jim turned to face the empty corner. He yelled at the air. "I'm not Khan!" He shook his head wildly, trying desperately to get the image of Marcus' head imploding before his eyes out of his mind. "You can't take my ship!"

_The Enterprise is mine!_

_Frank, stop!_

"Get away from Sam, you bastard!" Kirk clenched his fists, taking a swing into open air. "I'll kill you if you touch him!"

_I didn't kill anyone!_

_Starfleet is at fault!_

_[Maybe you should just put a phaser to your head.]_

The Captain pressed his hands over his ears, begging his mind to cease its irrational thoughts. "Get out of my mind!"

Kirk's heart beat wildly in his chest and he could taste the bile that had risen in his throat. His hearing was muffled, the regular noise of the ship being drowned out by his own pulse thumping in his ears, and the voices in his head. He held his hands to his head as he began to feel faint. Standing on shaky legs, he attempted to shuffle towards the comm panel.

He didn't want to admit it, but he needed help.

Kirk never made it. He fell to the floor in a quivering heap, the violent shaking of a seizure overtaking him before he even hit the ground.

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

"Jesus H. Christ, what the hell happened?"

McCoy immediately ran to the side of the hover-stretcher that bared an unresponsive and trembling Kirk. Sulu followed closely on the heels of the medical staff, nervously wringing his hands together.

"I got to the gym for my morning workout and found him on the floor."

McCoy and the nurses transferred the Captain to a waiting biobed, the adjacent screen lighting up red, alarms blaring. Kirk shook under McCoy's steady grip, the doctor trying to soothe the seizing man as best he could. With a free hand, he pried open one of Kirk's eyes and scowled as he waved a small light into it.

"Dammit, his pupil is blown. Get me a hypo of Lorazepam right now! We've got to stop this seizure." He turned his attention to the Helmsman. "Tell me more, Sulu. I need to know everything, no matter how inconsequential it might seem to you."

Sulu approached the biobed, concern crossing his face. "He was shaking on the floor. There was a barbell overloaded with weights on the ground near the bench. I think he might have over-exerted himself."

"This isn't a case of working too hard. That doesn't cause seizures and unconsciousness." A nurse delivered a dose of medication into Kirk's system and his body began to relax, the tremors stopping seconds later. McCoy let out a sigh of relief and gently laid a palm on Kirk's sweaty forehead. "Nurse T'lara, log that the seizure stopped at oh-five-twenty-nine. Start an IV drip of electrolytes and saline, we need to get him re-hydrated."

McCoy held two fingertips to the large vein in Jim's neck, feeling the erratic pulse underneath. "Let's get a total blood workup, a brain scan and place a cardio monitor. His heart's really working, and I want to know why." He turned to a waiting nurse. "Contact Lieutenant Uhura and ask her to find the security feed from the gym. Maybe I can figure out what the hell happened to him from that."

Jim began to stir on the biobed, groaning as he eyes fluttered open. McCoy laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing down slightly as Kirk tried to sit up. "Don't try and get up, Jim. I need you to stay down for a bit."

Without any warning, Kirk's arm immediately shot into the air and struck McCoy across the face. Jim sat up in a flurry, his eyes seething with anger, lips snarling. He lunged at the doctor as he leapt off the biobed. Before anyone could react, Jim had his fingers wrapped tightly around McCoy's throat. "I'll kill you, you bastard!"

M'Benga immediately ran to his CMO's side, trying to wrench Kirk's hands from McCoy's neck. The nurses and Sulu watched in horror as Kirk squeezed harder, McCoy's eyes bulging as struggled to get out of Kirk's grip.

"Ji…st-stop!" McCoy could barely manage to speak as his throat was constricted. He clawed at Jim's fingers to no avail.

Sulu jumped in and grabbed onto M'Benga's shoulders, pulling with all his strength in an attempt to get the Captain away from the doctor. M'Benga screamed to an awaiting nurse. "Get a hypo of Sonambutril, eight milligrams. Stat!" Both men strained against the herculean strength of their enraged Captain.

A nurse ran into the fray and slammed the hypospray into Kirk's neck. Within seconds, his hands went slack and he fell to the ground in an unconscious heap. McCoy doubled over and grabbed his throat, wheezing and coughing as he tried to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. "What the hell…was that?"

M'Benga knelt beside Kirk, waving a scanner over him. "His brain activity is all over the place, blood pressure's through the roof. Heart rate is dangerously high, but coming down—thanks to the sedative."

McCoy rubbed his throat, red finger marks bright on his skin. "His strength was superhuman. It was like he was insane." He looked down at Kirk, sadness in his eyes.

_Jesus, Jim._

_What's happening to you?_

"Get him onto the biobed and restrain him. Tight." McCoy watched as M'Benga and Sulu lifted Jim's limp body in the air. As soon as he was situated, a nurse placed soft cuffs on each of his wrists and ankles. "We can't risk him going nuts on us again until we figure out what the hell is going on."

The two doctors watched the readouts intently. Both scowled as the abnormalities piled up. M'Benga rubbed his chin. "Len, this isn't normal. I mean, look at his brain waves. He's got enough sedatives in him to take down a Gorn and it's like they're just barely keeping his mind at bay."

"I see it. I wish I didn't, but I do." McCoy sighed and shook his head. "His blood oxygen saturation is terrible. Let's get some Tri-ox on board and see if it helps."

A nurse handed him a hypo and he gently administered the medication, watching the bio-screen for any change. Seconds later, the readout went back into the green. McCoy sighed with relief. "Well, that's one small win. Now we just have to figure out why he went mental. Get those blood cultures and a full body scan…now."

The nurses busied themselves with drawing blood and monitoring Kirk. M'Benga and McCoy stepped back for a moment to talk.

"Len, you want to let me in on anything? Because now would be a good time. I saw the look on your face. I don't think this was a surprise."

McCoy scrubbed his hand over his face wearily. His neck still throbbed. He looked back at Jim for just a moment before answering. "Let's go in my office."

M'Benga followed him into the small room. McCoy closed the door and reluctantly confided in his friend. "Jim's been having nightmares. Mostly about Khan and the core. I finally got it out of him last week that he has been suffering from migraines again. I think the dreams and headaches are connected."

"But what does that have to do with him passing out and attacking you today? He could have killed you."

McCoy flopped down into the chair behind his desk. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, dammit!"

M'Benga took a seat across from him. "Look, Doc. I know the Captain's your best friend and that you want to protect him. But I'm really concerned, and not just for him." He leaned forward to look McCoy directly in the eyes. "Who's to say he won't fly off the handle like that again? You're lucky we were here to rescue you this time. What if he does it again? Or hurts Doctor Marcus?"

"I just need more time, Geoff. Hopefully the blood tests will reveal something. I just hope…" He trailed off with a deep sigh, and let his shoulders sag.

"You're worried it's Khan's blood."

"What did I do to him?" His voice was quiet. "He didn't ask for this."

"You saved him. Don't you dare beat yourself up for it."

McCoy shook his head, defeated. "I know that. But sometimes I think back to his awful recovery after that transfusion, the months he spent just trying to get strong enough to walk again, the pain he was in while his body rebuilt itself…" He closed his eyes, the image of Jim in the body bag flashing into existence. "…I don't want him to hate me for it."

"You two need to talk about this, Len. I can tell that you haven't." M'Benga stood and straightened his uniform top. "I'm going to go check on him. Just hang out here for a while and regroup."

McCoy silently watched him head for the door. He didn't have the energy to fight back. He knew Jim was in very capable hands.

"And Len?" M'Benga smiled warmly. "He doesn't hate you. You brought him back from the brink. I can't think of another man who can say that his best friend actually snatched him from the reaper. Promise me you'll talk to him."

"Sure, Geoff." He turned his computer monitor on. "Keep me updated. I'm going to do a little research. I need to figure this out."

The other doctor acknowledged with nod and left to care for the Captain.

McCoy blew out a long breath and began typing.

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

"Doctor, why is the Captain restrained?"

McCoy looked up from his PADD. Spock stood stoically, hands clasped firmly behind his back. They both stood on either side of the biobed containing Kirk.

"He attacked me."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Attacked you? I was under the impression that he was brought to Sick Bay because he collapsed in the gymnasium."

"He did." The doctor set his PADD down and adjusted the flow on the intravenous drip in Jim's arm. "Then he came to and lunged for me. Damn near killed me, too." He unconsciously rubbed his throat.

"Why was I not informed sooner? If I had known that the Captain was acting in such a manner, I would not have waited to check on his status in person."

"I didn't have anything to report. I knew you'd want answers and I just don't have them yet." McCoy hated feeling this defeated.

Spock was about to speak when a nurse interrupted them. "Doctor, Lieutenant Uhura has the requested video feed for you."

"Tell her to send it to my office." He re-adjusted the cuff on Jim's wrist. "C'mon, dammit. Let's go see if we can't figure out what the hell is happening to him."

Spock said nothing as he followed the doctor into his office. Both men stood in front of the wall screen and waited for the video signal.

The screen flickered to life, a paused image of Jim as he walked into the gym. McCoy started the playback with a touch of his finger. They watched as Kirk entered the room and removed his shirt, then pushed weights on the barbells. He began to lift, both viewers marveling at just how much mass he was able to boost above his head. This went on for several minutes, with McCoy intermittently fast-forwarding the video.

He stopped when the time-stamp indicated that more than an hour had passed. Something had caught both their eyes. The doctor rewound a few seconds and they watched again as Kirk's attention went from his lifting to the corner.

"What the hell's he looking at?"

Spock moved in closer to inspect the screen. "Unclear, Doctor. There is nothing—and no one—in the room with him."

"Whatever it is, it spooked him." McCoy immediately thought back to the conversation he had with Jim nearly a week ago. He had asked him if he was having visions, especially when he was awake. Not dreams. Jim had assured him that he wasn't.

Now Leonard wasn't so sure he had been telling the truth.

They watched as Kirk resumed his workout, only to stop again moments later.

"_No! Stop it!" _

He frantically tumbled off of the weight bench, the barbell dropping behind the apparatus. Holding his hands over his eyes, Jim trembled.

"He is afraid of something, Doctor."

"You think?" He rolled his eyes in Spock's direction. The Vulcan was unfazed.

"_I'm not Khan!" _Jim screamed at the corner, even though he was obviously alone. He visibly shook. _"You can't take my ship!"_

They watched as Jim yelled about his brother, taking punches at open air. He was becoming hysterical. He moved erratically around the room, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to get away from whatever demons were tormenting him.

McCoy's heart broke for his friend. Jim had been in an emotional spiral and he hadn't been there to help him through it. Spock stood next to him, silent. Even though the Vulcan hadn't said anything, the doctor could just imagine what was going through his head watching his Captain act irrationally.

He would want to remove him from command.

"_Get out of my mind!"_

Jim staggered towards the comm panel, collapsing in a seizure as he reached for it. The video playback ended, the image of a seizing Kirk replaced by the _Enterprise's _general screen image.

McCoy whispered reverently. "What the hell's happening to him?"

"It appears that the Captain was hallucinating."

"No shit, Spock." McCoy crossed his arms over his chest.

The First Officer wasn't surprised by the doctor's retort. "It is concerning that the Captain was not in control of himself. I believe it would be wise to relieve him of duty until you can medically clear him. The ship's safety, along with that of the crew, could be in jeopardy if he were to lash out again."

McCoy felt his face turn red with anger. "Listen to me, pointy-ears! I'm not letting you yank Jim from his commission until I get some definitive answers. He might just have a virus or something that's causing this to happen. Don't get all high and mighty and act hastily."

"Vulcans are incapable of becoming 'high and mighty', Doctor. I am merely expressing apprehension as to the nature of the Captain's condition. It would be illogical to assume that he will not act this way again when we do not have definitive answers as to what is causing his behavior." He stared McCoy down. "Furthermore, it would be careless of me as First Officer not to think ahead to the future when the situation may arise that Captain Kirk would need to be removed from duty. Have you forgotten that he nearly choked you to death hours ago?"

_Damn you, ya hobgoblin!_

_Don't you think I know how serious this is?_

"Of course I haven't forgotten! Just…give me two hours before you ruin his life, alright?" He stormed off and back into Sick Bay in search of Jim's blood test results, leaving Spock alone in his office.

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

"Take a look at this, Geoff."

McCoy and M'Benga huddled in to look at the screen of Leonard's PADD. Jim's blood test results had come back, and they confused both doctors.

"What's with that enzyme? I've never seen that in blood before." M'Benga's face contorted in confusion.

"Me neither. It's something that shouldn't be there, that's for sure." McCoy sighed deeply, rubbing his chin in thought. "It might be to blame for his outburst, though. Look here." He brought up Kirk's brain scan on the screen. "That shit's not flowing through his brain vessels as quick as the other blood cells. It's staying longer before moving on."

M'Benga agreed. "You think it's latching on to the cells there and causing his psychoses?"

"I'd bet my family's plantation on it." He furrowed his brows. "Now we just have to figure out why it never showed up before in any tests. It makes me nervous to think that over a year out, that madman's blood is still doing new things to Jim."

"I think I could synthesize a temporary serum to counteract the effects. Until we can find something more concrete, that is." M'Benga offered a hopeful smile.

"Get to work, Geoff. I don't want to wake him up and be in the same situation we were earlier. If we're gonna let him come to, he needs to be sane and lucid." McCoy rubbed his throat with a frown.

M'Benga went off to work on his medication, and McCoy continued to stand in his office, staring at Kirk's vital signs dancing on the screen in front of him.

_We're gonna fix this, Jim._

_I'm not going to let Starfleet take your girl from you, I promise._

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

"Push the meds, M'Benga. Let's see what happens."

A few hours later, the two doctors, flanked by Spock and a nurse, administered the new serum into Kirk's body. No one really knew what effect—if any—the drug would have, but they had to try.

They all looked at the screen keenly, watching as the body scanner continuously ran up and down Kirk's length. The results were almost instant. Within seconds, the enzyme that had been attaching itself to Jim's brain cells began to dissipate.

"Well I'll be damned, M'Benga. You did it." McCoy slapped him on the back.

"I wouldn't be so sure it will keep working yet, Len. All my research—albeit quick—points to this being a short-term fix. We're going to have to come up with something better as soon as possible." He frowned slightly. "This stuff isn't without risks. I anticipate some of the side effects being…unpleasant."

"Like how?" McCoy was concerned.

"If he's on the cocktail too long, say, more than four weeks…it may begin to affect his neural functions. We could start to see seizures and loss of motor functions. After all, it's blocking receptors in his brain. I don't know for sure how long-term exposure will fair with him."

It was a risk McCoy was willing to take. He had to figure out what was going on with Kirk and fix it. He felt he owed it to his friend to make sure that augment blood he put in him wasn't harming him. And right now it most definitely was.

"We'll get this sorted out before then, I'm confident. Let's wake him up."

A nurse pressed a hypo into Jim's neck and within seconds his eyes were beginning to flutter open. He immediately began to strain against the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His heart rate began to rise, along with his blood pressure. McCoy laid a soothing hand on Kirk's shoulder.

"Easy, kid."

Jim furrowed his brows, eyes closing in defeat. "Why're my arms tied down?"

McCoy, M'Benga and Spock exchanged glances. M'Benga finally answered him. "You collapsed in the gym, Sir. Mister Sulu found you seizing and brought you to the medbay. You…attacked Doctor McCoy."

Jim's eyes bulged in horror. "I what?" He shook his head in surprise, then looked to McCoy. "Bones…did I really?"

"'Fraid so, Jim. But we think we might know why."

Kirk closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He laid there silently for a long moment. "Can you untie me?"

McCoy quickly brought up the most recent brain scan results on the biobed's screen. All results were showing that the enzyme had been controlled. He felt it was safe to let Kirk out. "Yeah. You've got medication on board that's helping." He carefully undid one cuff, while M'Benga removed the other. The nurse at the end of the bed detached the ankle restraints.

Kirk immediately rubbed his wrists. McCoy raised the head of the bed, allowing for the Captain to sit up. "Did I really hit you?"

"Not so much hit as tried to strangle me with your bare hands." McCoy rubbed his throat. "You were pretty out of it."

Kirk was appalled. "I can't believe…"

"Don't fret about it. We're going to get to the bottom of this. But you need to be totally honest with me from now on."

Spock cleared his throat. "I will leave you two gentlemen to discuss the Captain's test results."

Kirk grabbed for his arm. "Stay, Spock. This concerns you too. You're my First Officer; you have more of a right than anyone on this ship…" He looked to McCoy. "…present company included, to know what's going on with me."

"Very well, Captain. If you insist."

M'Benga motioned for the nurse to follow him out of the isolation pod the Captain was resting in, leaving the three officers alone.

"So what _do _you remember, Jim?"

Kirk scowled as he tried to bring the memories back. "I…"

"Don't lie to me, Jim. I need to know absolutely everything."

Jim chewed on his lower lip before quietly offering his response. "I was manic, okay?"

"Manic? Like how?" McCoy watched as Jim's vitals spiked.

Kirk clasped his hands in his lap, nervously tapping his fingers together. "Sometimes I get these bursts of energy. Most of the time they're harmless, and I just go to the gym and work out until it goes away."

"Most of the time? What happens when they're _not _harmless?"

Jim looked away as he spoke. "I hide."

Spock chimed in. "Why do you feel the need to remove yourself from public during these times?"

"Because I don't want to hurt anyone." He sighed and shook his head. "You don't know what it's like! It's like something inside of me is telling me to kill my yeoman, or blow the ship up or…"

"Jesus, Jim! Why didn't you tell me before? How long has this been going on?"

Kirk licked his lips and carefully thought on his answer. "I don't know…six months?"

McCoy fumed. "And you thought keeping that from me was beneficial how?"

"I didn't want to worry you, alright? I thought I could deal with it. It was my problem, not anyone else's."

"I knew I should have hog-tied you and dragged your ass in for those blood tests ages ago." He gripped his PADD tightly, trying not to physically lash out at the man in front of him. "This is no joke, Jim. These types of psychological phenomena can lead to serious and permanent damage to your brain if not dealt with."

"Captain, I believe in light of these new circumstances, it would be beneficial for all parties if you were to relinquish command. Until we can find a cause and cure for your ailment, of course."

McCoy stepped in. "Now wait just a damn minute! You can't just go takin' his chair away. We've got the situation under control with the new drug for right now."

"But we cannot be certain the effects will be long-lived. Doctor M'Benga was concerned with the longevity of the medication."

McCoy was livid. "That's still not a good enough reason take his commission away!" He turned his attention to Jim, the Captain obviously distressed. His eyes were worried. "Listen to me, Jim. I'm not going to allow this. I have the final say when it comes to medical issues."

Kirk exhaled deeply. "Maybe he's right, Bones. What if I hurt someone else?"

"It's not going to happen. M'Benga's drug is working—and will continue to work until we can find a more permanent treatment." The biobed's screen began to light up red, indicating that both Kirk's heart rate and blood pressure were greatly elevated. The doctor motioned to Spock. "Get out of here, wouldja? You're stressing the both of us out."

"If you feel my leaving would benefit the Captain's recovery, than I shall go. Keep in mind that we will need to finish this conversation at a later date, however." Spock nodded to Kirk. "I shall return after my shift to check on your progress."

The Vulcan left, leaving Kirk and McCoy alone for the first time that day. Jim hung his head. "We both know he's right. Nothing you can say and no amount of drugs is going to hide the fact that I almost killed you with my bare hands this morning."

"_Almost, _Jim." McCoy pulled a rolling stool up and sat next to Kirk's bed. "M'Benga and I are going to figure this out. I'm not going to feed you to the wolves."

Kirk swallowed hard. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about the episodes. My pride took over and…"

"…you didn't want to worry me, right?"

Kirk nodded. "It was stupid, I see that now."

"Look, no more lies. We can't afford to slip up…either of us. Or we both know what's going to happen."

"Spock's going to be watching me like a hawk, isn't he?" Kirk tried to smile.

"Him and me both, kid." McCoy looked at his chronometer. "I gotta go do my rounds. I'll be back in a while and we'll talk about springin' you, alright?"

Kirk leaned back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. "Sure, Bones."

XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX

The door chimed, and Kirk jumped.

He had been overly jittery since McCoy had released him from Sick Bay several hours back. He was worried that with every second that passed, M'Benga's wonder drug would get weaker and Khan would be back in his brain. He placed his book on the coffee table and went to open the door. It slid open, producing McCoy, toting a bottle of scotch.

"Thought I'd help you drink away your sorrows."

Jim smiled weakly. "You're contributing to my delinquency, you know." He ushered him in.

McCoy sat on the couch while Jim retrieved two small glass tumblers from his miniscule kitchenette. He plopped down next to his friend and Leonard cracked the seal on the bottle.

"I was savin' this for a special occasion." He poured the amber liquid into each glass. Raising his own, and Jim following, and they clinked the glasses together.

"I don't see how me losing my mind is a special occasion." Kirk took a long sip, swirling the alcohol around in his mouth. McCoy did the same.

"Hey, this stuff's not bad. It's no Kentucky Bourbon, that's for sure. But, not bad." He sat back against the couch cushions. "I figured I'd come by and we could talk."

Kirk eyed him suspiciously. "Talk about what? My mental state? 'Cause that's something I'd rather forget about at the moment."

"Actually…" McCoy hesitated, fidgeting with his glass. "…we never really talked about the transfusion."

"Sure we did. You talked about it all the time when I was in the hospital." Kirk drained his glass and poured himself another shot.

McCoy shook his head. "That's not what I meant. We've never _really _talked about it. I want you to know that I…did it out of desperation. There was no way I was going to lose you that day."

Kirk was silent for a moment, swirling his drink in the tumbler. He sighed as he replied. "I don't hate you, if that's what you're getting at."

"I put you through hell, Jim. And that hell's still burnin' strong." He set his glass down to refill it. "I feel guilty."

"Why? You saved my life."

"But look what's happening. You've never fully recovered." He downed the shot in one gulp, immediately filling his glass again. "That shit's poisoning you from the inside."

Kirk wasn't going to listen to his friend beat himself up. He steeled his expression. "'That shit' is the reason that I'm alive today. All the pain I endured, it was all worth it. Don't think for one minute that I blame you for any of this."

"But you should. You didn't ask for this."

"You're right, I didn't. You know why?" Jim smiled mischievously. "Because I was dead."

"Don't remind me." Leonard sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "That was the worst day of my life, Jim."

"But you did the impossible that day. That's a pretty big accomplishment."

McCoy poured himself another shot. "Yeah, but at what cost? If I would have known then what I know now…"

"You still would have done it."

"You're right. Still…" This time he savored the scotch, sipping slowly. "…part of me still wants to you hate me, even just a little, for making you suffer."

Kirk snorted. "Fine, you want me to hate you 'just a little?' You got it. My urethra hates you for the catheter I had to have in the hospital."

"C'mon, Jim. I mean it."

"I do too, that thing really hurt. Especially when you yanked it out." Kirk cupped his hand over his groin. "Just thinking about it brings back all kinds of awful memories."

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Kirk's smile waned. "It's a defense mechanism." His eyes lowered to the table, and he picked at the edge of the glass. "I really am sorry about this morning."

"I know, kid. You weren't in control. You don't have anything to apologize for."

Jim sighed and continued to fidget. "You're going to fix this too, right?"

"There's no way I'd let them take the _Enterprise_ from you, Jim. I'm going to work around the clock until we figure out why Khan's blood is reacting the way it is." He laid a comforting hand on Jim's, forcibly stopping him from tapping the glass tabletop. "The minute I injected that serum into you, I took us both down this path. We're in this together."

Jim just nodded in silence and sat back against the couch, glass in hand. Both men drank quietly, staring out into the blackness of space.


End file.
